Chapter 26 Catfish
CATFISH
Idon’t stop to ask questions because I know our protocol. There’s always a spotter on the west side of town to alert us when a convoy of vehicles passes through.
From the far eastern corner of the property, there’s a manned lookout that can see a mile down the road. On a brisk clear night like tonight, they can likely see headlights even farther.
And the assertion it’s FBI based on vehicle size and style has probably been analyzed before there was a call to the President…which…given they called Wraith, suggests time has already been wasted trying to call Grudge.
Obviously, he didn’t answer because he was in the middle of proposing to his woman.
If we’re going to move, we need to move now.
While we have the advantage of darkness.
Now, before everyone else starts to get their wives and kids out of here in their trucks.
“Let’s go.” I grab Wren’s hand and tug them towards the rear of the building.
“Wait, my laptop,” Wren says as we pass my room.
“I’ll grab it. Start running out the back. Jump the fence. We’ll run across the field to the ranch house. They won’t see us in the darkness. I’ll catch up with you.”
It hurts to see Wren go without me, but I know I can outrun just about anyone. Throwing the door open, I scan the surfaces and see their laptop on the table. I grab it, along with two of the jackets I have hanging on the wall.
There’s yelling and shouting coming from the bar, accompanied by the chaotic thud of footsteps. I hear the roar of trucks in the lot as people start to leave.
Jackal appears out of nowhere with Shade. “We’ll cover this exit so they can’t follow you easily.”
My gut says they know why this matters so much to me. “Thank you, brothers.”
I charge after Wren, down the last of the hallway and out the door into the rear lot of the club. The area is lit, and I see Wren’s footsteps in the snow. Shit, the FBI’s going to know some people left this way.
But Jackal and Shade will buy us time.
And Grudge, and now Lucy, as our lawyer, will hold them off at the gate for as long as possible. I glance out into the darkness. This is what King was worried about. If they raid us from the front, there’s a possibility they’ll also attack us from the rear.
I can’t worry about that now, because I have the bones of an escape plan that I’ve been considering for the last couple of hours.
Earlier, I loaded the truck up with supplies in case we ever needed to run.
Just never imagined it would be so soon.
I should have thought ahead and brought the truck with me, instead of suggesting we walk to the clubhouse so I could drink as much as I wanted.
And I’m hoping that King and Grudge will understand my reasons. Because it’s based on the theory that the fewer people who know where Wren is, the better Wren’s chances of surviving this and staying free.
Climbing the fence is a little trickier with so much shit in my arms, but when I see Wren running in that black tank top that skimmed their body like sin as the windchill blows well below freezing, I’m glad I grabbed what I did.
When I catch up to them, I hand them my thickest shearling leather jacket. “Here, put this on.”
“Thank God.” Wren takes it from me, and they stumble trying to slide their arms into it as they jog.
I reach out my hand to steady them, and once they have their coat on, we sprint.
Wren’s right, it’s fucking freezing. There’s a collision between the frigid air and my shirt-clad chest that leaves me a little breathless.
My…Wren… can run.
Fuck.
It’s so easy to claim Wren as mine.
“Here,” Wren says, grabbing the laptop from me. “Put your coat on before you freeze.”
I take the opportunity to shove my hands into the sleeves.
It takes a few more minutes under the advantage of darkness to make it to the ranch house.
“Do you trust me, Wren?” I ask as we hit the porch, and I tug out the keys.
The pause feels like it’s days long. “More than I trust anyone else.”
I hate that their life experience has led to them not being able to trust anyone. I take Wren’s hand, kiss the back of it. “Two minutes. That’s all I can give you to pack up anything you need. But don’t put any lights on.”
We stomp into the house, dragging snow with us. And there’s a second where Wren is torn. I can see it in the way their head shifts from the direction of the bedroom to the living room. Clothes or electronics.
“You get the electronics. I’ll grab clothes,” I say.
Relief floods their features. “Thank you.”
We split, and I grab the first bag I can find. I can’t spend too long overthinking it, but warm and dry are the key themes in my mind. Some underwear, shirts, and I see the chest binders and grab two of those too. Pajamas. Anything fleece. Jeans.
It’s enough. I run to our room and repeat the process, shoving them into a kit bag. On the way to the hall, I run my hand along the bathroom shelf, letting it all fall into my bag. Then grab our toothbrushes from the glass.
I run into the kitchen and do the same thing as the bathroom, scooping shit out from the cupboard into the shopping bags I left on the counter to add to the emergency supplies I already put in the truck.
“Ready?” I ask.
Wren looks longingly at half their setup, then back at me with tears in their eyes. “I’m scared.”
“I know. Wish I had more time to comfort you, but standing here won’t make you feel any safer.” I kiss their forehead, then lead our way outside.
Because of the layout of the ranch, you can’t see the clubhouse from the house. But I’m reluctant to put the truck lights on.
Instead, I allow the truck to quietly roll down the driveway that Atom has had plowed. When we get to the junction with the main road, I take the right turn, the one that leads us away from the clubhouse and the incoming FBI.
Wren is quiet as we ride, and I can feel the tension in their chest, see the strain in their posture. They were just beginning to relax, and I don’t want them to ramp up their anxiety any more than they have to, ever again.
“Where are we going?” Wren asks.
“There’s a place Atom and I go fishing in the summer. It’s on his land but way deep into it. We stay there for a few nights. It’s not pretty. In fact, it’s very basic. But we’ll be truly away from the heat.”
“Did you bring your phone?” Wren asks.
“No. I left it at the ranch. I’ve got a burner tucked under your seat. Paid cash for a pay-as-you-go phone. It’s turned off. You?”
“Ditched the SIM, kept the casing. I have spares. They’re in Faraday bags.”
The road eventually starts to narrow to nothing more than a snow-packed path, the trees looming tall and dark on either side of us. I focus on them, trying to see something I recognize, but we never come up here in winter, and things sure look different in summer.
Wren rubs their hands over their face, and I can feel their overwhelm starting to build.
“The cabin’s just ahead. No one is going to find us here unless they know every inch of the land.”
Wren pulls the jacket tighter around them, despite the warm air now blowing from the truck’s heating system. “Then I’ll make doubly sure no one finds us.”
There’s a waver in their voice, but they unzip their laptop bag and flip it open on their lap, the screen’s glow casting sharp angles on their face.
I wonder if they find their calm in being busy, because that I can help them with. When we get to the cabin, there’s going to be a lot we’re going to have to do in the cold to make it feasible to sleep in it. Although, I suppose we can just hunker in the truck until daylight.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m going to route us through layers of digital noise using my mirrored VPN chain across Eastern Europe, then a decoy node I spun up in Tampa.”
“What?”
“I travelled to Tampa a few years ago. Hated it. But while I was there, I set up a whole dark web account for an imaginary person. A guy. Think of it as digital crumbs. Now, there’s a years-old footprint for a fake person in Tampa.
” Their fingers fly over the keyboard, the tap, tap, tap the only sound in the truck.
“I’ll spin up a burner signal for Tampa.
If anyone is running any geolocation scans, they’ll think I took the bus south.
I’ll load up my old username and seed some false chatter about hiding out with that persona I created. ”
I whistle at that. “I can see why your life is a bit fucked up, sweetheart. It’s like living in a conspiracy theory that you have to spend time building defenses against.”
This time, when Wren sighs, their breath judders. “I know how the FBI hunts; it’s why I’ve had to learn how to disappear.”
“And the cartel?”
They shrug. “They’re sending a hitman. It could be anyone. For all I know it could be you. You could be driving me to my death right now.”
I hit the brakes hard enough that the truck skids a few feet. “You don’t really think that, do you?”
Wren reaches out their palm and squeezes my knee. “No. I was just illustrating your point, I guess. I have no idea what face the person sent to kill me will wear. You said you watched The Matrix, right? Remember the training program Mouse built?”
The truck idles beneath us, but I don’t move forward.
I turn in my seat to face Wren. “Yeah, I remember. The one with the woman in the red dress. She’s there to teach them how easy it is to get distracted.
Because if you’re too busy looking at her, you get distracted, you stop paying attention and… ”
My words taper off.
You give someone you didn’t see coming the chance to kill you.
You miss the threat standing right next to you.
“Shit, Wren.”
“Yeah, well, this is the life I built for myself.” They look out the window and pretend to be super interested in the ten feet ahead of the truck. “Is the cabin far?”
It’s tempting to push in so many different ways.
But I don’t, because I’m well aware they could make themself disappear permanently.
They could find a regular job, dye their hair, build a new name and identity.
Maybe they could do a better job of protecting themself without me.
I debate asking Wren to stay.
Pleading with them if I have to.
“No more than ten minutes,” I say instead.